Forgive me
by IshiIchiMari
Summary: Perhaps I am truly the failure in this relationship after all. And now… Now that it's come to this, I finally realize my mistakes. So I only ask one final thing of you… Is it too late to correct myself? Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach.


**Title**: Forgive me  
**Pairing**: None  
**Summary**: Perhaps I am truly the failure in this relationship after all. And now… Now that it's come to this, I finally realize my mistakes. So I only ask you of one final thing… Is it too late to correct myself?  
**A/N**: I've been meaning to write something like this for a while, and now since I've begun to read more Ishida, Quincy family angst fics—I've decided to finally put these thoughts and ideas into words. So yes, this is a Ryuken/Uryu fic—not as a pairing. Simply as father and son.  
**Warning**: Mentions of character death—Quincy father angst. Also, this wasn't edited—because I really wanted to post it. But I am rather fond of this fic, so eventually—I will edit it and do a 'replace-chapter'. Thank you all for reading this, enjoy.

-X-

The soft beeping sounds of a monitor could be heard, echoing silently throughout the empty room. Six people stood quietly beside a medium-sized hospital bed, their heads hung low as they waited somewhat patiently for the news as their bodies tensed. However, even with the reassuring noise, signaling that their friend was, indeed, still alive and breathing—it was only a matter of time before the male's breath stalled once more, and his heart attempted to stop again.

A soft, almost inaudible sniffling noise came from the corner of the room and the orange haired male's brows creased gently in worry—as he glanced towards the female. In the current situation, no words would be, or had been exchanged for quite some time, since entering the hospital—so Ichigo stepped wordlessly over to the female as he slowly held out a hand. Watching as watery brown orbs looked up to him, his own eyes shone with unshed tears and instead—he opened his arms in a silent, understanding gesture. As the female stepped her way slowly and shyly into his embrace—he held her close as his eyes clenched shut tightly; his lids stinging as he strained himself to remain calm. Not only for him, but for everyone else.

Swallowing hard, the tension returned to the room as a female nurse stepped in—and padded her way across the unstained room. Worried eyes watched her carefully, following her every movement as she quietly bent over the patient—checking his wrist for his heartbeat, and any signs of life. As she leaned over and looked onto the Quincy's pallid, emotionless face; everyone stilled as the girl slowly began to frown and made her way out the door. When she glanced back into the room for one final look—she silently placed a hand over her heart as her eyes met the others', before turning around and exiting the room.

_What does that mean? _They all asked themselves—silently, of course. In some ways, they knew the wounds the male had gotten this time were on a more serious level; but for some reason, the entire ordeal seemed too surreal to be happening… And it felt as though everything would be okay. But it wouldn't be, would it?

"I-Ishida-Kun…" The soft, stuttered name escaped the female as she clung helplessly to Ichigo's shirt. Her eyes continued to leak constant tears as they dripped down her cheeks, over her chin—and down onto her blouse.

Everyone stared at her for a moment, wishing that they could do the same—express their emotions so freely, but they couldn't. So instead, they remained silent; envious of the healer as they gazed back towards the still form on the bed with their eyes lidded.

"I'm sorry…" A soft voice murmured from across the room, nearest the door. Another woman had peeked her head inside, her face showing obvious discomfort as she glanced towards the group and then towards the patient—before looking to the majority once more. "Visiting hours are over..." She mumbled quietly, her voice softening due to the current situation as she stood up straight. Pushing the door open with the flat of her palm—a stream of light made its way into the dimly lit room; illuminating the unconscious Quincy's face. Each person gazed towards the nurse, before each other—and eventually the man on the bed. It was obvious, how hesitant they were to leave; how they didn't want to, how they preferred to stay. But after a few silent goodbyes; the gently touches to the archer's hands; they slowly began to depart. Each heading in their own, separate directions for home.

As the hospital neared its closing hours, the staff members slowly began to lock up—shutting door by door, locking closet by closet, as they made their way towards their locker rooms, to head off as well. However, on the first floor's far office, a male stepped slowly towards the door as he ignored the protests of passing by nurses and waved them off with a single hand. He knew how long the other had heard the news—saw it first hand, in fact; yet denied it like it did not exist. As if the only person left in intensive care was a complete stranger to him, even though he knew the male, fairly well. Perhaps better than the teen's very own friends knew him, or anyone else for that matter.

Pushing the door open gently, and stepping inside—he took in the hunched form of the normally pristine doctor as his own eyes narrowed and his lips pursed into a tight, thin line. Although the room was silent, he was well aware the other could sense his presence—and knew the man had chosen to ignore it, as he did everything lately. But because of that fact, it gave Isshin the courage he needed to step in farther and make his way across the room, and towards the hospital's director.

"Ryuken." His tone of voice was strong, almost demanding as he came to a halt, behind the other. Slowly, he watched as pale fingers combed through snowy white locks, before slipping downwards and onto his lap—only to reach into the pocket of his dress pants and reveal a nearly empty pack of cigarettes.

"What?"

The voice snapped, somewhat harshly before a cigarette was placed in between pale lips. Brown irises watched his friend carefully, and although his lips parted to snap right back at the eldest of the two remaining Quincy—he took note quickly of the slight tremble to normally calm hands, and silenced himself immediately. Frowning, his eyes began to soften—a sympathetic look forming on the ex-Shinigami's features as he took in his friends form. Over the many years he had known Ryuken; strong, brave, composed—would all be words he would use to describe him. However, this shaky, silent man on the verge of breaking—was not the man he knew. Or at least—this was the inside of the man he knew. The side of himself that Ryuken always did his best to hide. Closing his eyes, a soft breath began to escape the taller male as his shoulders began to relax and his hands clenched lightly at his sides. Remaining silent for another moment or two, when he opened his eyes once more—his expression became blank as he tried to be strong not for him—but for his friend.

"You know you can't just ignore this forever, Ryuken." Of course that statement earned him a side glance and a glare—however it was better than the silent Ryuken, which terrified him. Folding his arms slowly across his chest, he gave the other a flat look as his own face took on a more serious look to it, and his eyes regarded the Quincy with caution. Ryuken seemed to gaze at him for a moment, before taking a slow drag of the cigarette between his lips and pulling it a way to blow out a small cloud of smoke.

"Ignore what?"

Brows knitting together, the brunette began to gnaw on the inside of his lower lip to keep himself for saying anything unnecessary in the current situation. Although, at some points—he respected Ryuken for that mask he wore, being able to cure the sick and help out various patients daily without so much as breaking a sweat—but when it came to things such as this… More important matters that Ryuken kept the mask up throughout; he really wished the archer could see when enough was enough, and know that it would be alright to show emotion. Even if it was just this once.

Even though Isshin knew that he should be the one to show Ryuken what was going on and how to deal with it, some part of him—and the more dominant part, at that—was telling him to humor the Quincy, and allow him to take things in on his own terms. And even though he wished to ignore that factor, and help his friend out on his own… He knew that this would be best for someone like Ishida.

Stepping up to the other once more, he closed the distance as he opened his arms. Placing a strong, yet firm hand on the doctor's shoulder—he kept it there for a moment as he leaned down, bending at the waste; before allowing a small smile to slip onto his features as he whispered quietly. "You're right. There's nothing to ignore." Although his eyes were closed now, he could feel the Quincy's shoulder tense from beneath his touch, only to slowly lower in defeat. Opening his eyes into small slits—he took in the furrowed, white eyebrows—along with the clenched jaw and the fingers which had now crushed a nearly-full cigarette in between his palm.

Thinning his lips once more, Isshin slid his hand over tense shoulders, and gave the male a small—quick, hug. It didn't last long, no more than three seconds, before he pulled away and cleared his throat as he tugged on the lab coat which was still situated on his own shoulders. He knew, just by the Quincy's reaction—how Ryuken was feeling. And with those actions that the archer portrayed, he was well aware that it was his time to go, and that Ryuken would be alright. …For now. "Alright, I'm going to head off now!" He spoke, his tone going back to the up-beat and adventurous pitch as per usual as he gave a large smile. "Don't you stay up too late filing paperwork again! You know that's probably what ruined your eyesight in the first place! Got your nose stuck in a book, I swear!" Letting out a small bark of laughter—he opened his eyes and watched as the male slowly nodded, before reaching forward to put out what was left of his cigarette. Eyes softening, Isshin lowered his arms before turning towards the door and sliding his hand along the painted wood. "Take care, Ryuken…" He whispered quietly as he gave the male a final look. After that, he was gone—leaving the archer alone in the silent expansion of Karakura's hospital in the middle of the night.

-X-

The clicking of freshly polished dress shoes against hospital floors could be heard, echoing throughout the expansion of the hospital as the man moved along the halls. His tie, although usually in place—was loosened and moved into a messed up knot, hanging lifelessly around his neck. His lab coat had long been discarded—left in a pile upon his office chair as he left the now suffocatingly-silent room which he had previously been busying himself in, with work. He knew what had happened, felt the attack before he had heard about it—knowing that something had gone wrong. Although he usually forced himself to remain passive while reacting to certain events, this one proved to be somewhat difficult; seeing as he had been dealing with that odd, nagging feeling all day—is if knowing something would go wrong.

Even though he denied feeling any emotions, other than acknowledgement towards his one and only son; it seemed as though when things became as serious as they were now—he couldn't help but feel other emotions, which he preferred to leave alone, bottled up inside. Well—it was more so that he ignored their existence; pretending that he did not think of anything else, other than his own habits, along with work. Uryu was no longer considered someone he needed to bother himself with, once the teen decided to leave home and ignore his father—labelling him nothing more than acquaintance, and an aggravating one at that. A part of him thought he had distanced himself far enough to not feel such things as what he was feeling now, and it only irritated the eldest Quincy when he realized, in fact—that he had not been so successful with bottling things up as he had thought he had been.

Placing a cigarette between his parted lips once more—what was this, his fifth, sixth? Seeing as he had lost count as the hours ticked by, he wondered idly how long it had been since he was left alone in his office, to his own devices. Judging by the empty packet or two of the sticks he was currently smoking laying deep within the bottom of his otherwise empty garbage pail—it had to be a good three hours or so. Was that really the longest he could keep everything in, without giving into himself in the slightest?

How was this possible—that he could go from his cold, closed off—emotionless state, to one such as this which was prompting each step forward he was taking, towards the occupied hospital room? A normally steady hand, one which preformed countless surgery after surgery, moved shakily once more through silver strands as the archer made his way down what seemed to be an endless lane. Passing room after empty room, he forced himself to straighten his posture—compose himself; as his hand dropped to his side after removing his cigarette and blowing out a thin stream of smoke. Stilling at the end of the hallway, fancily clad feet paused before a tightly closed door as blue irises slowly fluttered open to gaze into a dark, curtained window.

Despite the current situation—when one parent would normally weep for their child, Ryuken simply stared for a moment, emotionless—before grinding his teeth together. It was this, the tightening of his jaw and the clench to his fingers as he ground the cigarette into the freshly painted hospital walls—that showed—although not noticeable to many, but to those who knew him well—it showed that with the actions that had happened throughout the day, it had caused something from within the Quincy to break. Snap. Falter—and cave.

Placing his hand onto the doors handle, he twisted it slowly until the faint clicking sound met his ears—signaling the opening of the door. Pushing it forward, he remained in place as the door made a silent squeaking sound in protest, on its hinges. Staring into the darkness, even without looking; he could sense that familiar, gradually decreasing reiatsu as it engulfed him. It wasn't much better—he mused; than the suffocating confines of his office, which he was now debating whether or not to return to. If it weren't for the soft beeping noise—the sound of shifting which snapped his gaze upwards—he wouldn't have stepped in as quickly, into the room; due to the fact he probably would have left. His hand stretched out of its own accord—quickly finding the small switch on the side of the wall and flicking it upwards, to illuminate the room. This action made his eyes gaze directly onto the still form of what he considered still to be a mere child, as his glasses began to slide slowly down the bridge of his sweat-dampened nose.

"It was just a breeze…" Whispering quietly to himself, partially muttering, Ryuken trailed his gaze over towards an opened window which began to clang nosily with the shifting of harsh winds. Moving across the room, he reached up rather harshly and slammed the window shut in his irritated state. Glaring towards the darkened streets of Karakura—almost as if it were the cause of his problems, he pursed his lips into a thin line before shutting the curtains and turning around. Placing his hands behind himself slowly, and leaning onto the windowsill; Ryuken stared for a moment at the floor, before glancing towards his son.

_Foolish, _he wanted to say. _How many times have I told you that carrying out your duties because of this 'Quincy pride' you say you have, will lead you to your death? Countless, it seems—and you never bother to listen. It is your own fault for where you have ended up now, and it could have been avoided, if you had not been so ignorant as to ignore the words of your father. You are but an idiotic child, so very much like your grandfather… like your mother…_

Brows knitting together, because of his thoughts, Ryuken's shoulders slowly began to tense once more as he stared somewhat calculating at the still form across from him. It seemed so far away, yet so close—as if he could stretch out his hand and touch the boy, yet pass right through him. It was frustrating—these thoughts and he pushed himself off of the wall quickly as he made his way towards the door.

However, despite the fact that he knew he could—just walk out and leave; he didn't. Something caused his legs to still, feeling heavier than any Menos, than any illness weighing down on you—more heavier than anything you could ever imagine. Perhaps it was his unconscious speaking—somewhere within him, trying to tell himself that he should stay. That… If he were to do so, to do anything—it could change things more so than he could even imagine.

But that was stupid, foolish. Uryu was as good as dead—if he wasn't already. His own recklessness caused him to falter, and end up here in Ryuken's hospital, slowly wasting away into nothing. Ryuken didn't care, wouldn't care—or at least, that was what he liked to tell himself. No matter how he would look at things, no matter what he tried to convince himself, he still cared and he always would.

"Damnit…" Teeth grinding together, Ryuken reached up—smashing his fist into a nearby wall. Of course he knew his own strength, so it was no surprise when he slid his hand downwards and scraped his nails along the wallpaper—that he could clearly make out the large indent of which his actions had caused.

This shouldn't have happened—not now, not so soon. So many things had been going on lately, that Ryuken chose to ignore for his own sake, as well as for others. Burying himself in work was what had got him through countless of deaths in his lifetime—and it helped him find some sort of peace. So why couldn't it this time? What made this case any special… any different?

Turning his head slowly, Ryuken kept his hand pressed against the crumbling foundation beneath his palm as he glanced over his shoulder. Opening his eyes—he watched the monitor as it moved slowly—the red line jumping with each pulse, each heartbeat.

This wasn't fair.

Clenching his hand once more, it took all of Ryuken's strength to force himself to remain still. Not calm, of course—but still nonetheless, as he closed his eyes. Reaching up with his free hand, which had managed to drop the crushed cigarette bud somewhere along the way—he pinched the bridge of his nose tightly, in between his index finger and thumb as he swallowed thickly.

How much farther would he have to push himself, strain himself against his own battle? The war raged within Ryuken as he tried to fight himself—for each action to take next, for each step to move onto.

Staring at his son, looking over at the limp form on the mattress behind him—he wasn't sure what, exactly, to feel. Of course there was a bit of bitterness—a certain 'I told you so' wanting to form onto his lips and be released; but as much as he tried, as much as he wanted to—nothing came. Instead… That familiar feeling swelled up inside of him. Something was inside of his chest, touching his heart, and squeezing it hard.

Slowly, each step he took—was taken carefully. The clacking sound of his shoes matched the monitor in volume as he made his way towards the silent figure resting on the bed. His hand dragged gently, smoothing his knuckles against the bed sheets as his arm remained limp at his side. If it weren't for the rise and fall of his own chest—he could have sworn he was a walking corpse; however that was clearly not the case.

Staring down at the figure—this close, made everything seem so unrealistic. The boy in front of him looked normal—just as pale and still as he remembered, whilst asleep. Although that slight flush to his cheeks and pouting of thin lips was missing; if he hadn't known any better, he would have assumed the boy was simply sleeping. Nothing more, nothing less.

Reaching down, the Quincy slowly lifted a hand to press his palm to the teen's forehead. Cold. Clenching his jaw once more, he slid his hand down the side of Uryu's face, to caress his cheek. Still cold.

Breathing in heavily through his nose—unfocused, blue irises began to sweep across the boy's still form before—

"..Nn…" Pulling his hand away, Ryuken reached up to touch his own cheek. Removing his fingers slowly—his eyes began to widen as he glanced down at his now dampened fingers. Tears. Turning his gaze back towards the younger male laying on the hospital bed; he simply stared down at the boy as water began to leak, uncontrollably from his eyes as his breathing picked up the pace. It seemed as though things were finally kicking in.

Falling down, Ryuken was thankful for the visitors chair which was situated beside the bed—for without it, he would have fallen to the floor. Shaky hands rose to the bed to grasp a smaller hand, as his teeth grit once more and he closed his eyes. "Damnit…" He ground his teeth together, muttering once more as his hands tightened—almost dangerously around the lifeless hand within his own. "Damnit!"

It wasn't fair! He didn't care about the Shinigami in the world, he didn't care about his own race. He denied everything—the existence of others, the bond he had between him and his son—everything, so that he could be ready for if this moment ever came. Of course, like most parents—Ryuken assumed he wouldn't have to live through this. After all, being much older, it would be only natural for him to go first. But actually being here, in this moment—he realized that there was nothing more he could have done to prepare himself for this. And he hated himself for it.

Why did it have to be so soon? Surely, seventeen was far too young of an age to die at. Uryu was still a child—and although Ryuken treated him like an adult; the boy was still his son, someone he… Rather reluctant to admit—but someone he cared for. Why did he ignore that feeling he had earlier? Why hadn't he anticipated this? But most importantly—why was he deeming this his fault, when he wasn't even there. When he was the one who told Uryu to give up being a Quincy in the first place.

Oh…Right. It was because of this.

Looking down at that lifeless face—and although Ryuken's glasses were on, the tears which never ceased, managed to blur his vision—everything began to weigh down on him. All those questions he never thought he'd begin to ask himself, all filled his mind at once—causing a migraine to form as he closed his eyes.

Why hadn't he stopped this? Why hadn't he done something? Why wasn't he more active in the short life of which Uryu had—and most importantly; why didn't he care more. Nothing seemed to be enough, and no matter what excuse he would give himself—he wouldn't believe it. This was so unlike him, so out of character—that it caused his head to throb once more and his forehead to fall forwards and rest itself upon the mattress in front of him.

"Uryu…" He whispered, clenching his teeth. Although he hated himself for lowering to this level, he knew that… If he said this—said what was on his mind—in the end… It would make him feel so much better than he ever would; if things were left between them, how they ended off in the first place.

"Am I a failure?" He asked aloud, his voice echoing slightly throughout the room. Sniffling silently in hopes to clear his sinuses—Ryuken opened his eyes and lifted his head. "Do you wish it had been me who passed that day, instead of Soken?" Eyeing the lifeless form, Ryuken's eyes centered in on the closed ones of his son as he spoke. "You would have been better off, wouldn't you—had I been the one to leave that day, and not him." Licking his lips as his mouth became dry, Ryuken let out a shaky breath—a soft sob escaping him as he did so, causing him to hiccup.

"Was there anything I could have done, to change your opinion about me? Not in the past—but somewhere along the way… To make things better, to make things right." Speaking to the nearly lifeless form in front of him—his eyes stung now as his fast-paced breathing continued. "Do you hate me—loathe me for the things I had done, and do you wish that even now, we had reversed roles? Would you prefer me to be the one laying on this bed, with you here above me? But would you even be above me…"

Closing his eyes, Ryuken clenched his jaw shut once more as he willed himself to calm down; or at least on some level. He hated himself right now—and although at first, it was for being so open and whining; that wasn't the case anymore. He hated himself for more than just that—more than not having answers to his now spoken questions—but for something more personal… And that would be—

For not doing this sooner.

_I apologize, Uryu. _His eyes remained closed as he brought the boy's hand to his lips and pressed his mouth to the cool skin. _I apologize for you being where you are now. _Sniffing once more, his breath hitched as another sob escaped him—this one, also followed by a hiccup. "I love you… Uryu." He spoke quietly, swallowing. "Can you forgive me…?"

Trailing off, Ryuken slowly looked down at the still boy. That soft beeping noise began to stop—this time dragging on, to signal the halting of one's breathing process. He knew it was only a matter of time—a matter of seconds, before this would happen. But he still wasn't ready. Hands clenching on the one he held, he looked down at the lifeless form of his son as he whispered gently.

"Am I too late..?"

Closing his eyes, Ryuken slowly lowered his hands—as he stilled his breathing. Although his chest was rising and falling more slowly now—that halted sound almost made his heart stop as well. Ever so slowly, his forehead rested down, onto the mattress of the warm bed; and he closed his eyes tightly and he pressed his face into the blankets. It was over now… There was nothing more he could do. And although he knew this time was coming—this exact moment as well, he never thought it would have felt quite like this. It was—it was…

"R…Ryu…ken…?"

Eyes opening slowly, as they began to widen—the eldest Quincy slowly raised his head. Blinking for a moment as he gazed upon the still face; he wondered if he had been imagining the sound, before it happened.

Slowly, azure colored orbs began to flutter open—before squinting slightly as his eyes met the light. Ryuken could only stare down as those dark blue irises looked around before meeting his own—their gaze confused, a bit irritated, and in pain. Looking away quickly, he just now noticed the sound as the beeping returned—and the waves on the screen continued to flow. What had happened… Was this real—or had he fallen asleep?

"Ryuken…" The voice croaked once more—before a gargling sound could be heard as the boy attempted to clear his dry throat.

Letting out a shaky breath—he gazed into those eyes as they glared daggers up at him—and for some reason, instead of meeting that glare as he always would; he did something else. Something so different.

He supposed it was because of the situation, and of course—what had just happened. But he didn't care; it escaped his mind. Although he preferred their previous relationship; the bickering, the arguments—as it allowed himself to keep at a safe distance. He knew that, that would not satisfy him anymore—wouldn't keep him sane, and more importantly… Wasn't really what he wanted. So, leaning down, Ryuken slowly pressed his lips to his son's forehead—before pulling back and looking down at him.

"You really are, my son…" When the confused gaze he received slowly changed—he gave a small, shockingly rare smile down at the boy, before wrapping his arms around him. It took a couple minutes for everything to sink in, for it to click in to the younger one—but after a moment, and a shaky breath escaping the both of them; those arms which were so much smaller than his own, wrapped around him in return and held tightly.

"I know I am… Ryu—father…" Was the soft mumble that escaped parted lips, as smaller hands clenched into a suit's jacket. "You really are an idiot…"

Hearing the word, along with the ones that followed—only forced a soft chuckle out of the Quincy, before the elder man shook his head. _I know I was, Uryu… _He thought to himself as he held the boy closer. _I know I was, back then… But with time—I will show you; that there is more here for you, than just that. And although it may take time, and I am not the best and most patient of parents—I am hoping you can forgive me and give me this second chance… _

_For I know how reckless I was, and how I have been… But I won't be anymore. You are my son, Uryu—and the next time this happens; I will be there, to protect you._

-X-

End.


End file.
